


Bon Appétit

by iamanidhwal



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Biting, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Body Worship, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ficlet, First Kiss, First Time, Food Kink, Kinky, Love Bites, M/M, Neck Kissing, Not Beta Read, Praise Kink, Prayer, Resolution, Roughness, This is.... blasphemous, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: Angels always pray before every meal.Aziraphale is no different.





	Bon Appétit

**Author's Note:**

> If this is going to be the fic that's sending me to Hell, then so be it.
> 
> Based on a lovely and chaotic Discord chat with other members of the Ineffable MNL GOmens people. ( Hello ;^) )

* * *

Crowley's back smacked loudly against a bookshelf, heavy gilded tomes falling all around at his feet, but he couldn't care less. Under any circumstance, the angel currently in his arms warranted one-hundred percent of his attention. 

His focus tunnelled even further as Aziraphale leaned up for a kiss. Wine-stained lips and fumbling hands, an angel and a demon find reprieve after a long, six thousand years worth of pining and anger and miscommunication. Here, in this bookshop -- in the dead of night, with only candles and a number of half-empty wine bottles keeping them company, neither Heaven nor Hell wanting anything to do with them after the failed attempt of Armageddon -- it is here they finally find the comfort that they seek, in each other's company, in each other's arms.

Aziraphale was most insistent, hands grabbing at the collars of Crowley's jacket to pull him down for a deeper kiss. The demon was all too happy to comply, hand wrapping around the back of the angel's neck and cradling it to tilt him further upwards. His fanged canines made the first nip on a plush, velvet bottom lip, and as soon as Aziraphale moaned, he gained entry, tongue laving at every surface.

There was an unmistakable scent, and taste, something that he didn't know he craved for until recently. Something so angelic, yet so delightfully sinful. Something so _Aziraphale. _It made his head spin, and he felt as if his feet left the ground when Aziraphale had started taking the lead. Crowley let him, the angel giving him the attention he so wanted to give Aziraphale in return. He leaned back for fresh air, but not too much, and smirked as their lips were connected by a string of glistening saliva.

And when Crowley looked up, he found himself breathless. In the candlelight, panting, with bruised lips and a feral stare, Aziraphale looked positively _ravenous. _

"You look hungry," he commented playfully. 

Aziraphale had the nerve to scoff, warm hands stroking his chest, going down to his stomach. "Can you blame me, when you look like _that?_" His hands grasped at Crowley's hips and squeezed for emphasis, forcing out a choked moan from the demon's lips.

"S-S-Satan's sake, Aziraphale --"

"I've wanted you for so long," he whispered in a rush before kissing him again, but now the hands were busy. It was making quick work undressing Crowley, shrugging off the padded suit coat from his shoulders, pulling off the silly silver necktie that Crowley favored. His kisses were moving now, from his lips to his jawline, fingers roaming under his grey v-neck. "Wanted to taste - "

Crowley could only groan in delight and pleasure, drowning out the sweet nothings that fell from angelic lips that continued to bite and suckle and kiss every inch of him. Aziraphale left a trail of hard kisses on his skin as he went steadily downwards -- from where his human body's pulse was more prominent, to the bob of his Adam's apple, to his sharp collarbones -- and he knew they'd be blooming reddish-purple by the time they were done. He could Miracle them away, of course, but where would be the fun in that? Besides, he liked this dominant, possessive side of the angel, and he liked being marked.

He leaned forward to reciprocate, but a hand steadily pushed him up against the bookcase. "Angel, let me --"

"_No._" Blue eyes flashed dangerously at him as Aziraphale tugged his undershirt free from his leather pants, fingers skimming the strip of skin from his midriff. It sent a shiver down Crowley's spine, and the smirk on the other man's face was not lost to him even though his eyelids fluttered half-closed. "Let me take my time with you, dear."

"I would have thought..." Crowley breathed out, trying to pace his inhales and exhales as Aziraphale's fingers lingered on his ribs, his stomach, as though mapping out every curve and dip and sharp angle of his body. "I-I... _fuck..."_

_"Breathe, _my dear," Aziraphale chuckled, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. "No need to rush."

Crowley huffed out in a rush, "Would you for once slow down and let me speak?"

"Oh?" Aziraphale's hand snaked downward to the front of his pants, where the very obvious signs of human arousal was felt. "Was I going too fast for you, Crowley?"

"F-Fuck," was all Crowley replied, all coherent thoughts flying out the window as he squeezed the hardness between his legs, and _fuck, fuck, fuck _was all that went through Crowley's head. "Angel, please... six thousand years --"

"I've waited for you for that long," Aziraphale mumbled, leaning forward once more. "I'm going to take my time, savor you. _Ravish you."_

_"Angel -"_

Their lips met once more, heated passion driving them both to try and bring their human bodies, their celestial essences, everything that they were, with all their differences written into their genetic and holy or unholy code, as close as they physically can.

At this point, Crowley was an incoherent babbling mess, a litany of moans and swearwords of different languages falling from his lips like leaves in fall. Aziraphale merely hummed and redid the trail of kisses down his body, pushing up his undershirt to his chest to expose more skin for him to worship. The angel's pink tongue laved at the dark, pert nipple on his chest, making Crowley howl in pleasure even more. 

"That's good, dear, work with me," Aziraphale whispered, hands stroking his side, thumb tracing circles into the jutting hipbone as Crowley arched his back. The sounds that Aziraphale was making was utterly _sinful; _Crowley was a demon, for fuck's sake, and he even _he _felt quite embarrassed. He'd have hid his blushing face if he weren't currently trying to grab at the wooden slats of the bookshelf he was being pressed against for leverage, or balance, whichever he needed more in the situation. 

"For all the circles of Hell," Crowley groaned. "Please, g-get on with it."

"I'm not going to rush things. I'm not going to rush _you._" 

"Let me," Crowley offered, gesturing to Aziraphale's own hardness evident from his suit trousers. "At least, let me--"

"Crowley."

"Please -"

"_Crowley."_

The huff of frustration from the demon was only slightly appeased by a well-placed kiss to the middle of his chest. He was about to complain once more, but Aziraphale smiled up at him, full of love and praise and want and lust, and Crowley really couldn't do anything but just watch as his fingers started to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. The sucking and marking and biting continued, across the expanse of Crowley's chest, to his sensitive nipples, to his ticklish sides and sensitive stomach. Aziraphale was mumbling something that he couldn't quite hear, something in a language he hadn't heard in a long time.

They were murmurs of praise, and worship, of love, and of appreciation. Crowley nearly cried, being called '_beautiful', _and _'handsome', _and '_perfect', _and _'entrancing'_. Aziraphale was thanking God for making him, for creating this body, this form that he had come to love. For everything that Crowley was and everything that he wasn't, for all aspects that made the demon himself. It was breathed into his skin, but in the silence of the bookshop, it was loud enough as if the angel had screamed it into the vast, open sky.

When the buttons of his pants came off, and Crowley's throat was already hoarse from all the lustful sounds he was making because of Aziraphale's ministrations, the angel started going lower and lower, still whispering sweet nothings in the archaic language only celestial beings could understand. But when he suddenly switched to English, Crowley's ears started burning. "_Bless us, O Lord, and these, thy gifts..."_

_"_A-Aziraphale...?"

The angel wasn't listening, still intent on _praying, _even when he pulled his pants down and teased the human cock tenting the fabric of the low-riding boxers on the demon's frame. "_...which we are about to receive..._"

Crowley wanted to gulp, but his throat felt too dry, his hips were already stuttering. He felt Aziraphale's fingers at his boxers' waistband, nails dragging along the fine red hairs that trailed ever downward as he pulled the article of clothing down, finally freeing his erection from textile restraints. "_from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord..."_

The demon keened, his fist going to his mouth to bite at his knuckles from frustration and barely-contained desire to just force that angelic mouth down on him to end the suffering. But he couldn't, and he just watched the most angelic man he had ever had the fortune to meet, wrap his warm fingers around his cock with a smile on his face that seemed to convey that he would want nothing else in the world than to be here, kneeling on the carpeted floorboards of a bookshop in Soho, mumbling and praying praise for the man and demon he had cornered.

"_Amen._"

Crowley's mouth formed a perfect 'o' of pleasure as Aziraphale's lips and tongue worked its magic around the head of his cock. The warmth and wetness of the insides of the angel's mouth made him almost delirious, and his hips were already moving on their own, wanting more and more, as much as the angel can give and as much as the demon can take.

"Yes, G-God, S-Satan, anyone, fuck...!" He groaned, his fingers finding a handhold in the tufts of white curls above Aziraphale's head. He tugged on them tight, the soft texture reminding himself of fine down feathers.

The angel was a true champ, already fitting much of his erection into his mouth. Crowley couldn't even look at him for more than a few seconds, because the vision of Aziraphale, his pink lips parted and wrapped around his member, a blush dusting his perfect features and blue eyes glossed over, was more than he could bear. It felt too special for him to see, and yet when their eyes finally met, he couldn't look away.

The angel's tongue swirled against the head, licking at the tip as if it was an ice cream cone they had shared in Saint James Park, and a thought flashed across Crowley's mind that Aziraphale really _was _savoring him, as though he was a treat or a pastry that was too special to eat apart from certain occasions. He supposed so, given the thoughtful hums and moans of pleasure coming from the angel as well.

"Aziraphale, _please_, I -"

"Don't worry, dear," he whispered, kissing the tip wetly, and it sent Crowley ever nearer to the edge. His hand lazily pumped him, ever so patient, ever so understanding. He knew exactly what twist made him purr from deep within his ribcage, knew how to move his fingers _just so _to get the demon's knees buckling from under him, threatening to collapse. "You're so, _so _good, so _perfect, _so _utterly gorgeous, _and _hot _and _delicious-" _

It was the soft drag of Aziraphale's teeth against the underside of Crowley's over-sensitive cock that made him come. The demon didn't even think twice, pulling Aziraphale's mouth over him as he rode his orgasm out, fucking into the warm wetness that he experienced. He came so hard he saw stars at the edge of his vision, and had he not been holding onto the angel's hair so tightly he would have toppled forward in exhaustion and sexual satisfaction.

Aziraphale, however, balanced him and kept him upright, hands gripping his inner thighs so hard that his nails left small crescent-shaped indents when he finally let go. He had made sure not to spill anything from Crowley's release, and the audible gulp from him made Crowley flush a deep red, a blush that spread from the tips of his hears to down on his chest.

The angel leaned back on his haunches, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked up at Crowley with a mixture of love, adoration, and awe. 

"Thank you for the meal."

**Author's Note:**

> *saunters vaguely downwards to Hell


End file.
